The Landlady
by tigerlilygirl97
Summary: Itachi is lured into the trap of a deceiving landlady. Will he make it out alive or will he end up like the rest of her pets?
1. Chapter 1

The Landlady

**Summary: She lured him into her trap, but will he make it out?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters. Also, this story is like a parody of another story written by Roald Dahl**

**Warning: This is a very odd story. **

**Also, I had to edit the first chapter and resubmit it so yea but I will be making more chapters….I think. Give me some ideas! R&R PLEASE! **

Itachi Uchiha had traveled down from Amegakure, otherwise known as the Village Hidden in Rain, during a slow afternoon in the winter time, by the time he got to Yukigakure, The Land of Snow, it was about nine o'clock in the evening, and the moon was coming up out of a clear starry sky over the houses opposite of a small village entrance.

The name of the village was called Shi no mura and it was quite small. But the air was deadly cold and the wind was like a flat blade of ice on his pale cheeks.

"Excuse me," he asked a woman passing by, "but is there a fairly cheap hotel not too far away from here?"

"Try The Beru To Doragon," the woman answered, pointing down the road. "They might take you in. It's about a quarter of a mile along on the other side."

Itachi nodded and set out to walk the quarter-mile to The Beru To Doragon. He had never been to this little village before.

Itachi was seventeen years old. He was wearing a new navy-blue fishnet shirt, a new black cloak with red clouds, and a new pair of silk navy-blue pants, a new Akatsuki hat he didn't know how to describe, and he was wearing a new pair of Akatsuki boots, and he was feeling fine.

He walked briskly down the street. He was trying to do everything briskly these days. Briskness, he had decided a long time ago, was_ the_ one common characteristic of all successful shinobi. There were no shops on this wide street that he was walking along, only a line of tall houses on each side, all of them identical. They had porches and pillars and four or five steps going up to their front doors, and it was obvious that once upon a time they had been very swanky residences. But now, even in the darkness, he could see that the paint was peeling from the woodwork on their doors and windows and that the handsome white facades were cracked and blotchy from neglect.

Suddenly, in a downstairs window that was brilliantly illuminated by a street lamp not six yards away, Itachi caught sight of a printed notice propped up against the glass in one of the upper panes. It said BED AND BREAKFAST.

There was a vase of yellow chrysanthemums, tall and beautiful, standing just underneath the notice. He stopped walking. He moved a bit closer. Green curtains (some sort of velvety material) were hanging down on either side of the window.

The chrysanthemums looked wonderful beside them. He went right up and peered through the glass into the room, and the first thing he saw was a bright fire burning in the hearth. On the carpet in front of the fire, a pretty little dog of some sort was curled up asleep with its nose tucked into its belly.

The room itself, so far as he could see in the half darkness, was filled with pleasant furniture. There a big sofa and several plump armchairs, and in one corner he spotted a large parrot in a cage. Animals were usually a good sign in a place like this, Itachi told himself; and all in all, it looked to him as though it would be a pretty decent house to stay in. Certainly it would be more comfortable than The Beru To Doragon.

On the other hand, a pub would be more congenial than a boardinghouse. There would be sake and darts in the evenings, and lots of people to talk to, and it would probably be a good bit cheaper, too.

He had stayed a couple of nights in a pub once before and he had liked it. He had never stayed in any boardinghouses, and, to be perfectly honest, he was a tiny bit frightened of them. The name itself conjured up images of watery cabbage, rapacious landladies, and a powerful smell of unpleasant foods in the living room.

After dithering about like this in the cold for two or three minutes, Itachi decided that he would walk on and take a look at The Beru To Doragon before making up his mind. He turned to go.

And now a strange thing happened to him.

He was in the act of stepping back and turning away from the window when all at once his eye was caught and held in the most peculiar manner by the small notice that was there. BED AND BREAKFAST, it said. BED AND BREAKFAST, BED AND BREAKFAST, BED AND BREAKFAST.

Each word was like a large black eye staring at him through the glass, holding him, compelling him, forcing him to stay where he was and not to walk away from that house, and the next thing he knew, he was actually moving across from the window to the front door of the house, climbing the steps that led up to it, and reaching for the bell.

He pressed the bell. Far away in a back room he heard it ringing, and then at once —it must have been at once because he hadn't even had time to take his finger from the bell button—the door swung open and a woman was standing there. Normally you ring the bell and you have at least a half-minute's wait before the door opens. But he pressed the bell—and out she popped! It almost made him jump…almost.

She was about twenty-five or thirty years old, and the moment she saw him, she gave him a warm, welcoming smile. " Please come in," she said pleasantly. She stepped aside, holding the door wide open, and Itachi found himself automatically starting forward.

The compulsion or, more accurately, the desire to follow after her into that house was extraordinarily strong.

"I saw the notice in the window," he said, holding himself back.

"Yes, I know."

"I was wondering about a room."

"It's all ready for you, my dear," she said. She had a thin, pale face and very gentle amber eyes.

"I was on my way to The Beru To Doragon," Itachi told her. "But the notice in your window just happened to catch my eye."

"My dear boy," she said, "why don't you come in out of the cold?"

"How much do you charge?"

"Fifty Yen a night, including breakfast."

It was fantastically cheap. It was less than half of what he had been willing to pay.

"If that is too much," she added, "then perhaps I can reduce it just a tiny bit." she said hastily.

"I should like very much to stay here."

"I knew you would. Do come in."

She seemed terribly nice. She looked exactly like the mother of one's best school friend welcoming one into the house to stay for the holidays. Itachi took off his hat and stepped over the threshold.

"Just hang it there," she said, "and let me help you with your cloak."

There were no other hats or coats in the hall. There were no umbrellas, no walking sticks—nothing.

"We have it all to ourselves," she said, smiling at him over her shoulder as she led the way upstairs. "You see, it isn't very often I have the pleasure of taking a visitor into my little nest."

The older girl is slightly dotty, Itachi told himself. But forty Yen a night, who cares about that?

"Hn," he said as politely as possible.

"Oh, I am, my dear, I am, of course I am. But the trouble is that I'm inclined to be just a teeny-weeny bit choosy and particular—if you see what I mean."

"Hn."

"But I'm always ready. Everything is always ready day and night in this house just on the off chance that an acceptable young gentleman will come along. And it is such a pleasure, my dear, such a very great pleasure when now and again I open the door and I see someone standing there who is just exactly right." She was halfway up the stairs, and she paused with one hand on the stair rail, turning her head and smiling down at him with pale lips. "Like you," she added, and her amber eyes traveled slowly all the way down the length of Itachi's body, to his feet, and then up again.

On the second-floor landing she said to him, "This floor is mine."

They climbed up another flight. "And this one is all yours," she said. "Here's your room. I do hope you'll like it." She took him into a small but charming front bedroom, switching on the light as she went in.

"The morning sun comes right in the window, Mr. Uzumaki. It is Mr. Uzumaki, isn't it?"

"No," he said. "It's Uchiha."

"Mr. Uchiha. How nice. I've put a water bottle between the sheets to air them out, Mr. Uchiha. It's such a comfort to have a hot-water bottle in a strange bed with clean sheets, don't you agree? And you may light the gas fire at any time if you feel chilly. Though by the looks of it you're a shinobi aren't you? Oh, how exciting!"

"Yes and thank you," Itachi said. He noticed that the bedspread had been taken off the bed and that the bedclothes had been neatly turned back on one side, all ready for someone to get in.

"I'm so glad you appeared," she said, looking earnestly into his face. "I was beginning to get worried."

"That's all right," Itachi answered blankly. "You don't need to worry about me."

"And what about supper, my dear? Did you manage to get anything to eat before you came here?"

"No. I'm not hungry, thank you," he said. "I think I'll just go to bed as soon as possible because tomorrow I've got to get up rather early and be on my way."

"Very well, then. I'll leave you now. But before you go to bed, would you be kind enough to pop into the sitting room on the ground floor and sign the book? Everyone has to do that because it's the law of the land, and we don't want to go breaking any laws at this stage in the proceedings, do we?" She gave him a little wave of the hand and went quickly out of the room and closed the door.

Now, the fact that his landlady appeared to be slightly off her rocker didn't worry Itachi in the least. After all, she not only was harmless—there was no question about that—but she was also quite obviously a kind and generous soul. He guessed that she had probably lost a son in the war, or something like that, and had never gotten over it.

So a few minutes later, he walked downstairs to the ground floor and entered the living room. His landlady wasn't there, but the fire was glowing in the hearth, and the little dog was still sleeping soundly in front of it.

The room was wonderfully warm and cozy. I'm a lucky fellow, he thought, rubbing his hands. This is a bit of all right.

He found the guest book lying open on the piano, so he took out his pen and wrote down his name. There were only two other entries above his on the page, and as one always does with guest books, he started to read them.

One was a Nagato Uzumaki from Konohagakure. The other was Yahiko Myojin from Amegakure.

That's funny, he thought suddenly. Nagato Uzumaki . It rings a bell.

Now where on earth had he heard that rather unusual name before?

Was it a boy at school? No. Was it one of his sister's numerous young men, perhaps, or a friend of his father's? No, no, it wasn't any of those. He glanced down again at the book.

_Nagato Uzumaki 231 Chikyuu Road, Konoha _

_Yahiko Myojin 27 Shizen Street, Ame_

As a matter of fact, now he came to think of it, he wasn't at all sure that the second name didn't have almost as much of a familiar ring about it as the first.

"Yahiko Myojin?" he said aloud, searching his memory. "Nagato Uzumaki? . . ."

"Such charming boys," a voice behind him answered, and he turned and saw his landlady sailing into the room with a large silver tea tray in her hands. She was holding it well out in front of her, and rather high up, as though the tray were a pair of reins on a frisky horse.

"They sound familiar," he said.

"They do? How interesting." She said. He noticed that she had let down her vibrant blue-purple hair.

"I'm almost positive I've heard those names before somewhere. Isn't that odd? They weren't famous in any way, were they? I mean famous shinobi or something like that?" "Famous," she said, setting the tea tray down on the low table in front of the sofa. "Oh no, I don't think they were famous. But they were incredibly handsome, both of them, I can promise you that. They were tall and young and handsome, my dear, just exactly like you."

Once more, Itachi glanced down at the book. "Look here," he said, noticing the dates. "This last entry is over two years old."

"It is?"

"Yes, indeed. And Nagato Uzuamki's is nearly a year before that—more than three years ago."

"Dear me," she said, shaking her head and heaving a dainty little sigh. "I would never have thought it. How time does fly away from us all, doesn't it, Mr. Hatake?"

"It's Uchiha," Itachi said.

"Oh, of course it is!" she cried, sitting down on the sofa. "How silly of me. I do apologize. In one ear and out the other, that's me, Mr. Uchiha."

"You know something?" Itachi said. "Something that's really quite extraordinary about all this?"

"No, dear, I don't."

"Well, you see, both of these names—Uzumaki and Myojin—I not only seem to remember each one of them separately, so to speak, but somehow or other, in some peculiar way, they both appear to be sort of connected together as well. As though they were both famous for the same sort of thing, if you see what I mean."

"How amusing," she said. "But come over here now, dear, and sit down beside me on the sofa and I'll give you a nice cup of tea and a ginger biscuit before you go to bed." "You really shouldn't bother," Itachi said. "I didn't mean you to do anything like that." He stood by the stairs, watching her as she fussed about with the cups and saucers. He noticed that she had small, white, quickly moving hands and blue fingernails.

There is nothing more tantalizing than a thing like this that lingers just outside the borders of one's memory. He hated to give up.

"Now wait a minute," he said. "Wait just a minute. Uzumaki . . . Nagato Uzuamki . . . wasn't _that _the name of the Konoha schoolboy who was on a walking tour through the West Country, and then all of a sudden . . ."

"Milk?" she said. "And sugar?"

"Yes, please. And then all of a sudden . . ."

"Konoha schoolboy?" she said. "Oh no, my dear, that can't possibly be right, because_ my_ Mr. Uzumaki was certainly not a Konoha schoolboy when he came to me. He was an undergraduate. Come over here now and sit next to me and warm yourself in front of this lovely fire. Come on. Your tea's all ready for you." She patted the empty place beside her on the sofa, and she sat there smiling at Itachi and waiting for him to come over. He crossed the room slowly and sat down on the edge of the sofa. She placed his teacup on the table in front of him.

" _There_ we are," she said. "How nice and cozy this is, isn't it?"

Itachi started sipping his tea. She did the same. For half a minute or so, neither of them spoke. But Itachi knew that she was looking at him. Her body was half turned toward him, and he could feel her eyes resting on his face, watching him over the rim of her teacup.

Now and again, he caught a whiff of a peculiar smell that seemed to emanate directly from her person. It was not in the least unpleasant, and it reminded him—well, he wasn't quite sure what it reminded him of. Pickled walnuts? New leather? Or was it the corridors of a hospital?

At length, she said, "Mr. Uzumaki was a great one for his tea. Never in my life have I seen anyone drink as much tea as dear, sweet Mr. Uzumaki. He seemed to have a thing for ramen too."

"Hn," Itachi said "I suppose they left recently then". He was still puzzling his head about the two names. He was positive now that he had seen them somewhere.

"Left?" she said, arching her brows. "But my dear boy, he never left. He's still here. Mr. Myojin is also here. They're on the fourth floor, both of them together."

Itachi set his cup down slowly on the table and stared at his landlady. She smiled back at him, and then she put out one of her white hands and patted him comfortingly on the knee.

"How old are you, my dear?" she asked.

"Seventeen."

"Seventeen!" she cried. "Oh, it's the perfect age! Mr. Uzumaki was also seventeen. But I think he was a trifle shorter than you are; in fact I'm sure he was, and his teeth weren't quite so white. You have the most beautiful teeth, Mr. Uchiha, did you know that?"

"Hn," Itachi said.

"Mr. Myojin, of course, was a little older," she said, ignoring his remark. "He was actually twenty-eight. And yet I never would have guessed it if he hadn't told me, never in my whole life. There wasn't a blemish on his body."

"A what?" Itachi said.

"His skin was _just_ like a baby's."

There was a pause. Itachi picked up his teacup and took another sip of his tea; then he set it down again gently in its saucer. He waited for her to say something else, but she seemed to have lapsed into another of her silences. He sat there staring straight ahead of him into the far corner of the room, biting his lower lip.

"That parrot," he said at last. "You know something? It had me completely fooled when I first saw it through the window. I could have sworn it was alive."

"Alas, no longer."

"It's most terribly clever the way it's been done," he said. "It doesn't look in the least bit dead. Who did it?"

"I did."

" _You _did?"

"Of course," she said. "And have you met my little Akamaru as well?" She nodded toward the dog curled up so comfortably in front of the fire. Itachi looked at it. And suddenly, he realized that this animal had all the time been just as silent and motionless as the parrot.

He put out a hand and touched it gently on the top of its back. The back was hard and cold, and when he pushed the hair to one side with his fingers, he could see the skin underneath, grayish black and dry and perfectly preserved.

"How absolutely fascinating," he said. He turned away from the dog and stared with deep admiration at the little woman beside him on the sofa. "It must be most awfully difficult to do a thing like that."

"Not in the least," she said. "I stuff_ all_ my little pets myself when they pass away. Will you have another cup of tea?"

"No, thank you," Itachi said. The tea tasted faintly of bitter almonds, and he didn't much care for it.

"You did sign the book, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"That's good. Because later on, if I happen to forget what you were called, then I could always come down here and look it up. I still do that almost every day with Mr. Uzumaki and Mr. . . . Mr. . . ."

"Myojin," Itachi said, "Yahiko Myojin. Excuse my asking, but haven't there been_ any _other guests here except them in the last two or three years?"

Holding her teacup high in one hand, inclining her head slightly to the left, she looked up at him out of the corners of her eyes and gave him another gentle little smile.

"No, my dear," she said. "Only you."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in so long. I just recently found some inspiration to keep this story going. If anyone has ideas, please PM or review and help me keep it going. Thanks to kibaxnaruto and mommymomo for helping me out. R&R!  
**

Itachi remained silent for some time. Feeling the gaze of this woman on him once more. Her warm and piercing amber eyes on him, occasionally glancing at his half-full cup of tea.

He suddenly felt light-headed and tired. Maybe he was just tired. He looked behind the chrysanthemums and outside the window, there was a storm coming. The clouds were darkened- not only because of the fact that it was nighttime- and the wind was rustling fallen leaves.

"I think it's time I retired to bed. Thank you for the tea." he said, putting his tea down and standing to walk up to his room.

"My dear, you haven't even finished your tea," she stated placidly.

"I'm tired," he said plainly as he started for the stairs.

A darkened and distant stare seemed to cover her face as he headed for the stairs.

Suddenly he stopped and asked her, "What is your name?"

She gave him a startled look and just said "You can call me Konan, dear boy."

"Hn," he said, and walked up the stairs.

As he turned to walk up the second flight of stairs, he stumbled and lost his footing. He used one hand to hold on to the rail, and the other to cradle his now aching head.

The infernal pounding in his head was making him dizzy. He knew he needed to take his medication. He just had to get to his cloak and reach in the 'secret' pocket.

He began walking up the stairs once more, reached his room. And closed the door.

* * *

Downstairs, Konan was sipping her tea with an unusual smile on her face. Then her smile disappeared as she looked at the ceiling.

Then, she put down her tea, and wandered up to the fourth floor, being sure to not make a sound as she passed the door to Itachi's room. She approached the furthest of the three doors. She gingerly pulled out an old rusty, metal key that she kept in her dress pocket, and used it to quietly unlock the door.

* * *

The room was dimly lit by the street lamps outside, and the only sound that could be heard were the pattering of the rain on the room's window and the roof. There was a small closet on the right side of the room and a dresser on the left. Then, there was a king-sized bed in the center with cherry wood bedside table on either side.

There was a man laying in the bed. His eyes were open and staring at the roof as if he were watching a fire burning in the fireplace. His eyes were a dark burgundy color with what seemed to be a ripple of black circles. It was as if his pupil were a rock that had been dropped into a pool of fine wine and the ripples were frozen in time.

She gently placed her hand on his cold cheek, as if it were made of glass. It was cold and fragile, like a sheet of ice.

"Oh, my dear Mr. Uzumaki, don't worry, you'll have a new friend soon," she giggled maniacally and continued, "I took extra precautions to be sure he joins you. He'll be our friend forever. Do you think I should keep him in the room, with you, Mr. Uzumaki? Or with Mr. Myojin? Or maybe in my room?," she rambled, "I really like this young man and he has such intriguing eyes. He wears the same cloak that Mr. Myojin did when he first came here…"

She trailed off as her mind wondered aimlessly.

**Thanks for reading! Remember to R&R! Sorry for the shortness!**


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